Benjie’s Young Men's Church Group Overnight Camp-Out

A group of boys of various ages are in a room in one of the buildings at their country church. There are loud voices as the younger boys fight to be heard over the even louder older boys who are seated in the back needling them. Pulling their hair. Poking them. Generally, just being a bully to them. Doing what older, more bored teenagers do to those they deem their inferiors. Being a nuisance.

The door opens. It is the teacher/leader of this vagabond group of young upstarts.

“Quiet! Quiet! Quiet!” The white-haired bearded older man says among entering the ruckus. “Rickey quit pulling little Ernie’s hair!”

Rickey is an older teen. One of the oldest teenagers seated among the boys. And Ernie is way younger than him. Seated next to Rickey is his pal, and partner-in-crime, Benjie. Another one of the older boys in this ragtag group and Rickey’s equal partner in devilment.

But the boys only seem to get rowdier feeding off the loudness of the others.

“I said, QUIET! QUIET!”

A hush falls over the room. Even the older boys sit up and take notice in their metal folding chairs and are at apt paying-attention mode. And the younger boys on the carpeted floor find themselves places to sit, like docile sheep, hands across their knees as they wait for what the man, who they quietly call Santa Claus behind his back is going to say to the lot of them.

“We are going on an overnight camping trip in two weeks, boys, out on Brother Gerald’s riverside property.” The white-haired gentleman says with his pronounced paunch overlapping and falling over his black belted waist.

The room erupts into an even louder uproar. Everyone is happy. Even the older boys in the back of the room. Rickey and Benjie too.

“Calm down! Calm down! Everyone.” The white-haired man says. “But this trip is only going to be for the older boys. The seventeen. Eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds.” A gentle sigh falls over the crowded room of boys especially the ones who will not be going on this camp-out overnighter. The cut-off age for the group is nineteen, as some of the boys in this age group are still in high school. It is hoped that being in this class would get them more motivated in their studies. But it is only a hope.

“I am not going to be able to go, Brother Cecil.” Benjie pipes up loudly among the noise in the cramped classroom. “I am going out of town with my stepdad and mom. It is a planned trip.”

“Well maybe you can go next time, Benjie. There is always other trips. But I sorry you are not going this time. I am sure you would have enjoyed yourself.” Brother Cecil says. “I am sure we will go again if this works out like we hope it will. Okay. Okay. Quiet everyone.”

But the younger boys are still upset at being left out of this riverside excursion.

“There will be another trip in two weeks after this one where the younger ones can go. Some of your mom’s will be along for that trip.” He continues. And sighs at the thought of women camping out at river with him. This seems to satisfy the appetite of the once disappointed younger boys. “Everyone gets out your Bible’s now and open to the passage of…”

They find the assigned scripture as he goes about teaching the lesson.

The two weeks seem to pass-by quickly for the first set of boys, the older teenagers, for this overnight camping trip. A group of seven are in one of the many small rural country church-owned vans as they head out into the countryside.

“Where are we going, Mr. Thompson?” Rickey asks. He is the one of the few nineteen-year-olds in the class. His mom was more than happy for him to go on this trip. Lately, she has been having difficulties with him. More than the usual. He is acting out and she does not know why but she suspects it is from jealousy. But jealous of whom, that alludes her. So, she puts it all into being a hormone-riddled boy. But he is not seen as a boy anymore, legally, he is a man. His mom fails to realize this recognize that little tidbit of realization though. To her he is still Little Rickey.

Mr. Thompson is the older white-haired man who announced this trip in his BOYS ONLY Bible study. It is a group set up by their church and the organization within it to nurture this young minds, hearts, and bodies.

“It’s out there by the river at Brother Gerald’s place.” Mr. Thompson answers the question posed by one of the boys seated behind him.

Brother Gerald is in the passenger seat of the van next to Mr. Thompson. Gerald is a father of two girls and married to his lovely wife Ethel of 15 years. He joined the church about ten years ago. He has since rose to becoming a well-respected deacon. On occasion he helps Brother Cecil. Cecil is Mr. Thompson’s first name. Brother Cecil once taught Gerald when he was younger in a similar Bible group at another church in their religious affiliation. Cecil was the one who invited Gerald and his family to come to this church where both are in attendance now. And all are quite active in their service.

They drive for a bit. They are no longer in the county where the church is located. But in an adjoining rural county. It is more remote. Less populated and one of the poorer counties in the state. And where the land is cheaper. It is here that Gerald has rented some land to extend his acreage for him to grow more of his cash crops. It is where he has planted his soybeans. Where they are going. The acreage butts up again one of the rivers that is the envy of the area. To have a pop-up camper next to the river would put him in a ‘high cotton.’ As not everyone has access to the river. Except if you go down to one of the bridges that crosses over it where everyone can swim. But then you would be like everyone else. And no one wants to be like everyone else. Do they?

Gerald has a pop-up camper out there where he goes, to get away from his wife and his two little daughters. Where he can spend some time in the Glorious Creation that he has been blessed with. This is the first time he has let anyone visit this campsite. Besides Brother Cecil, of course, who has been out there on numerous occasions since his wife passed into her Heavenly Reward.

Cecil is a widower. As you can tell. His wife of 35 years died about two years ago. He is a catch among the women in the church, but so far, he has found no interest in getting remarried. He prefers to hang out with his buddies. And to just be a single man, once again, after decades of being married.

Monday. Wednesday. And on Friday’s he has coffee with a group of his friends down at the well-known fast food clown restaurant down by the interstate. And on Wednesday night as he walks into church, he usually finds in his pew a freshly made casserole prepared especially for him. He suspects it is from the Sunday School class where his wife once sat among them. He thanks the church for their generosity and pats gently on his ever-expanding belly. He has gained weight from these delicious casseroles. However. Everyone laughs. The small children giggle at ‘the Santa Clause’ as the Wednesday night prayer meeting proceeds.

“Turn there, Brother Cecil.” Brother Gerald says as there are within mere feet from the turn-off from the hard-top road onto the 2-path white sandy rutted road that leads to the banks of the mighty river.

Brother Gerald gets out of the church van unlocks and opens gate. Letting the church van get pass through. He locks and rejoins the others in the loud crowded van. They proceed on down the short two-path road to the river.

The Greater Arbor Deliverance by Faith in God Church (Yep. That is the name of the church. It is quite the mouthful) bus rambles on down the two-path rutted road to the banks of the mighty Hallapahaw River in this rural out-of-the-way county. The five boys and the two men in the front seat are shaken for all their worth on this washboard-like road. They pass into a large copse of trees that border, the flowing brown river and pass by the field of flourishingly green soybeans, that passes through the southernmost region of the state. The brown-color of the river is a natural occurring phenomenon and is not out of the ordinary for this part of the country. It is caused by the breaking down of the leaves and other particulates on the river bottom. So says the scientist who have studied it.

They emerge into a clearing and the sprawling river is open before them. The pop-up camper is situated off in an area next to the trees. A firepit encircled by river stones is seen along with a grilling grate atop the black soot from previously burned fires which can be seen by a lot of men.

“We are here. Men. We are here.” Brother Cecil Thompson says to everyone. “Let’s get everything unloaded.”

It is about 2 p.m., maybe earlier, in the afternoon. It is hours before the sun is to set upon the group of seven.

Their numbers are and who they are need a quick introduction.

First. There is Brother Cecil Thompson. The leader. The teacher. ‘Santa Clause’ And whose idea this little foray was.

And then there is Brother Gerald. This is his property. Well, his rented property. And the co-conspirator in this little get-together.

Rickey. The 19-year-old difficult teenager. (His buddy, Benjie, was not able to come and Rickey is bothered by this inability of his to attend. They have been friends since elementary school and know each other as best friends would. All their secrets are shared between the two pals.) And he is the unofficial leader of the older teenage boys. But he is not even aware of this status. This is the number three of the group.

Three friends all the same age of eighteen are next. One of them having just had his 18th birthday this past week. They look like they were all hatched from the same egg, but none of the three are of any blood relation. Not even cousins. Mickey. Daniel. And Daryl. This has now put their number up to six.

Daniel is the one who just had his eighteenth birthday. If he had not been eighteen, he would have been seated at home. And most likely pouting.

And finally, there is lanky Dangnut. Yep. That is his nickname. He is a friend of the trio of Mickey, Daniel, and Daryl. He was given that name back when all these boys were in grammar school together. And now at age eighteen he has been stuck with it for life, it seems. He has embraced it as to who he is. As usual where the three go, he is likely to follow. Or to lead. You pick.

He is making the number seven in total. Older men and younger men. But all men, nonetheless.

“Boys. Me and Brother Cecil will be sleeping in a tent away from your lot in the pop-up.” Brother Gerald says. “We don’t want anything to happen to you boys. We promised your Mama’s we would keep you safe. And we intend to do just that.”

“I can take care of myself, Brother Gerald.” Rickey pipes in. He does not want to be perceived as a boy.

“I know you can, Rickey. I know you can.” Brother Gerald gives the teen a half-hearted nod in his response. But he doubts the boy can. Maybe over this trip he can counsel him on being a man. If he remembers right, the boy’s dad is in and out of the county jail so much they have installed a revolving door to accommodate him.

The supplies are unloaded. Soft drinks in a large red cooler along with ice and hot dogs and the necessary fixin’s for the supper meal. And patty breakfast sausage. Eggs. Grits. For the morning meal, breakfast, before they take off at around noon, tomorrow. On a Saturday. And all the necessary implements to prepare the meals over the open fire. All are stacked in the back seat of the van nearest the rear doors. This trip is meant as a time for bonding among the older teens and the two adults.

The boys were told to bring extra clothes, too. The mothers insisted upon it. They know how boys can be after all. They raised them.

Once things get settled down Brother Cecil Thompson calls out to the group. The boys are gathered at the river looking and wondering what they will do next. What is in store for them.

“Boys! Boys! Gather round. Gather round.” Brother Cecil says. He has taken off his shirt. The fine white hairs on his chest and paunch are all you can see. His jeans are barely able to contain the man that he has become in his early fifties. He knows he needs to lose some weight, but the casseroles are just so damn good. He needs to get back to his weightlifting with Brother Gerald who is always lifting those weights down at the barn at his house like they used to do together. Brother Gerald still lifts but now it is done entirely by himself.

The five boys are down at the rivers edge and turn when Brother Cecil lets out his loud holler to them. Hollering to come to where he is. They were waiting for Brother Cecil to tell them what they would be doing next. He always has something planned for them to do. He tends to repeat something about ‘idle hands being the devil’s workshop’ or something like that, but they do not even understand what he means. He just always wants to keep them busy doing something or another, they think.

Brother Gerald has also taken his shirt off, too. The man is heavily muscled. He is in some well-worn jeans too. The top snap is opened. And wisp of his dark pubic hairs can be seen disappearing below the waist of his jeans from the hair on his chest. But they hug him like a second skin. His chest is covered in the same dense thicket of dark black hairs. The years of farm work and going to Brother Cecil’s house to work out in the makeshift gym has added more muscles to his already stocky frame. But he is all muscle now. And he is proud of what he has accomplished. The boys walking up the bank notice the hairiness of Brother Gerald. They have never seen these two men without their shirts on before. Much less opening and exposing their two naked hairy chests. They have only seen their dads at home in such a state of undress. But never these men of God in the open with them.

“Boys! Boys!” he says, loudly. “Boys!” He says for the third time. His voice carrying over the rush of the brown river. “This is, what I am going to be calling, the ‘Adam in the Garden’ weekend, boys. I mean men, we are all men, here, are we not?”

This gets a short pause from the boys. As the boys look one to another. But who are, in fact, legally-aged men.

“Out here. And until we leave tomorrow. We can be free. You can be free. As free as Adam was in the luscious green Garden of Eden.” When he finishes his sentence. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans and yanks them down to below his knees. “What happens out here. Boys. Stays out here, Boys. Do you understand? Do you understand?”

Brother Cecil is naked below the waist. His cock has buried itself deep in the white hairs around his cock. But his hand goes there, as he frees and stimulates this weary beast to eternal life. And it responds, like the serpent who tempted Eve in the mighty Garden of Eden. It grows and pokes its head from betwixt the hairs of his furry white bush.

All five of the boys nod their heads. They understand. They are all country boys bred and raised. They have camped out closer to home and been out in the woods just by themselves. So, they know what he means.

The three ‘triplets’ are first to pull their ragged tees over their scraggily heads. The sprouts of the first buds of the dark chest hairs are sprouting in their developing muscles on their ripened chest. Next, the cut-off blue jean shorts are the next to go, cast aside and in the sand on the riverbank, after they have kicked their battered tennis shoes from their six feet. The tighty-whities which are so hole-infested are next to be shed like an unwanted second skin. All these discarded garments wind up in a lump in the white sands of the river.

Rickey and Dangnut are standing there still clothed among the boys.

“Whatcha waitin’ on boys? Be free!” Brother Cecil says to Rickey and Dangnut.

Rickey pulls his tee over his head. His chest is full of an abundance of dark hair. Much like Brother Gerald. And he lets his long hair flap in the wind like one of those New York fashion models, like you see on the TV. He knew he would be hairier than the other boys he had been the first one to get his pubes and hair under his pits when he was still in middle school. He sheds the rest of his clothes and is standing just as naked as the boys and Brother Cecil, who has now gotten rid of all his clothes too.

“Whatcha waitin’ on Dangnut? You scared?” It is Brother Cecil talking to the lanky teen.

While at the same time, Brother Gerald pulls down his extremely snug jeans. He is as underwear-less as Brother Cecil was. His cock plops free from the course dark and thick fur wrapped his cock like a blanket. Rickey notices this man that is standing next to him in age. Brother Gerald is in his mid-thirties. Gerald flexes and bends. He likes to be naked out here by the river.

“You work out, Brother Gerald?” Rickey asks.

“That I do, son.” Gerald responds to the oldest teenager. “That I do.”

“I have just started, myself.” Rickey says. “Maybe I will get to be like you one day.”

“Hard work and perseverance. Boy. Hard work and perseverance.” Brother Gerald says. “It is what got me to where I am today.” But all Rickey sees on the older man is his cock. Gerald notices that Rickey is looking at it too.

Rickey looks down between his legs and does a mental comparison between the two men.

“Rickey, my boy, it is up to you to use what the Good Lord done gave you to your best benefit. It will get bigger.” Brother Gerald says as he lets his right hand go to his exposed cock. And lets his fingers tickle the hairy pubes at the base of his cock. A tense piece of skin runs from his groin near the base of his cock. From there he lets his hand drift to his hardening cock.

He lets his hand grip tight and firmly around the base as he lets it gently slide from there to his tip. His cock grows harder in his hand as he does this.

“See, boy, you have to work at it to get the blood into it.” Brother Gerald says. “And it will grow.”

Brother Gerald’s cock has swollen to its almost full proportion as he unwittingly instructed the younger man on how to engorge his cock.

Rickey’s hand goes to his cock at the same moment that Brother Gerald went to his. They each travel the length of their respective cocks and get a hard-on to rival the other man nearest them.

Brother Gerald and young 19-year-old Rickey are solely focused on one another when they are shocked to reality they are not alone.

“DAMN! DAMN! DAMN!” It is the voice of older man, Brother Cecil. His voice carrying across the riverbank and causes quite a stir from those around because the good man of the church has said a foul word. (Never mind his hard cock.)

Everyone turns at that moment to see what all the fuss is about.

Brother Cecil is looking at the naked form of the lanky-thin 18-year-old teen and only blonde-haired young man among them, nicknamed Dangnut.

“Boy, you are the most blessed among us at this here little gathering.”

As Dangnut stands bare-assed as the rest of the men gathered. His cock. Not even hard is longer and thicker than all the rest. But Mickey. Daniel. And Daryl, already knew this about Dangnut. It was how he got his nickname. It was no secret among those four.

Brother Gerald walks over. As does Brother Cecil. And stares at the young man.

“May I touch it, son?” Brother Gerald asks.

“I suppose so, sir.” The boy says, sounding almost like a whimper but some deception tucked among his few words.

Brother Gerald gets on his knees. One knee in the sand and the other keeping his bare ass out of the sand. The dangling appendage, not even hard, nearly slaps the kneeling man in the face. Brother Gerald’s hand slowly goes to the boy’s cock. Which is fully hard now and throbbing. But Brother Gerald does not yet lay his hand upon it.

“It’s beautiful. Your cock is absolutely beautiful, son.” Brother Gerald says again. “Isn’t it? Brother Cecil.”

“The good boy said you could touch it. Gerry. Why haven’t you, yet?” Brother Cecil says.

Brother Gerald from his kneeling place directly in front of the tall blonde lad extends his right hand to the dangling hard extremity and grips it into a clutched grip inside of his five fingers. His touch seems to excite the lad.

“The boy is getting harder still, I see.” Brother Cecil says as he squats down next to Brother Gerald. And lets a finger go to the growing crown atop the boy’s mushroom-shaped cockhead. “Oh! Excuse me, boy, may I touch it? I am sorry I reached for it without your permission.”

“Go right ahead, sir.” Dangnut says as Brother Cecil puts his fingertip upon the glistening crown.

“The boy is expelling some of his precious juices.” Brother Cecil says as he begins to smear some of these juices upon the now engorged crown of the boy’s impressive penis.

Dangnut begins to squirm in place. His cockhead is sensitive.

“You okay, Boy?” Brother Gerald asks the nearly jumping boy.

“I am just sensitive sir.” Dangnut says to Brother Gerald.

As all this was going on. Rickey was standing behind the trio stroking his cock. Brother Gerald sees the younger man and his hard tool as he stands in the background.

“Looking good there, Rickey!” Brother Gerald says upon noticing Rickey.

“Thank you, Brother Gerald.” Rickey says.

And just beyond those four is the boys who could pass for triplets. But they are not. Each of their cocks are in their hands too. But only to be fondling something. They are not attempting to get hard as they do this.

“Are we boring you fellas?” Brother Cecil says as he takes his hand away from Dangnut’s actively hard cock.

“No sir but we’ve seen his dick since we were kids. He shoots more than we do too.” Says Mickey, usually the quiet one of this little trio.

“Is that so?” Brother Gerald says as he stands. His cock so hard it bounces up and spews some of leaking cum into his pubes, and his very hairy and wide treasure trail and onto his equally hairy chest. “That is good to know boys.”

Brother Cecil stands. His cock is hard too.

“Why don’t you boys all go for a swim. Cool off a bit. It seems to have gotten much hotter out here in God’s Creation since we arrived.” Brother Cecil says. “I know I need to.”

All the boys head to a sandbar near to where they are. Mickey. Daniel. Daryl. And Dangnut. And a reluctant Rickey. He seems to want to linger back with Brother Cecil and Brother Gerald.

Rickey turns and walks back to where the two leaders are standing.

“May I stay up here with you two?” He asks.

“Of course.” Brother Gerald says.

The three older men of this group walk back to the chairs around the firepit. All find a seat and begin to talk. Each spreading their legs to accommodate their hard cocks. But no hands are going to the obvious hard-ons nestled there among their furry bushes.

“Do you know that the boy Dangnut had such a big cock on him, Rickey?” Brother Cecil asks.

“No sir.”

Rickey wants to be noticed by them, but Brother Cecil seems preoccupied with the lanky weirdly-named boy, Dangnut, but Brother Gerald is aware of the younger man seated next to him. But it may not seem so to Rickey. But he is.

Brother Gerald stands.

“Rickey, will you come along and have a walkabout with me. I think we need to have a man-to-man talk.” Brother Gerald says to the 19-year-old and then turns to his fellow leader. “You don’t mind do you, Cecil?”

“No. No. Go right ahead. I will keep and eye out on the boys as they swim.” Brother Cecil cannot keep his eyes off the frolicking 18-year-olds in the brown swirling waters of the river. “I will be right here tending to this flock of young men.”

“Thanks, Cecil.” Brother Gerald says as he and Rickey walk off to the soybean field.